


In Between

by argonautoida



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, But it's there, It's Not a Great Twist, Kira Returns, Light is Off, M/M, Post-Canon, there's a TWIST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-10-13 13:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10514871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argonautoida/pseuds/argonautoida
Summary: Set a few years after Kira is brought to justice, L and Light have settled into a comfortable routine. Life is perfect, but L knows something is wrong. The edges of his world are fraying and something is trying to break through. When Kira comes back, he is stuck trying to sort out what is happening to reality and why Kira is back and why Light is suddenly too perfect.





	1. Nightmare

Red eyes peered into his and the rest of the world was dark. There was a rushing sound and perhaps a hint of a devilish laughter. Fear teared at him like the kind of wolf who featured heavily in fairytales and had a nasty habit of gobbling up lost children. It was too much. He wanted to scream but his entire body was paralyzed and his heart was beating faster and he felt like a scared little boy again and the church was burning just out of sight and the air was thick with smoke and—

A hand was shaking him awake and a voice laced with concern was calling out his name, his true name. His mind was a fog and he couldn’t quite make it out and he was drowning until he blinked awake with the kind of gasp that he imagined the dead would make if air one more filled their lungs. The eyes peering into his were a soft, honey brown. The room was dark, but moonlight filtered in through parted curtains. He felt like he could breathe again and he refused the tears that stung at the corners of his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.” His deep, even, almost sleepy voice was jagged. “What happened?”

Arms were holding him. He felt like he was still asleep.

“You were thrashing and trying to scream but nothing was coming out. I was worried.”

“I’m fine. A bad dream,” he said with a smile. Or what he thought was a smile. From the look on Light’s, it wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Do you want to tell me?”

“No. No, I don’t.” 

A soft kiss pressed against the back of his neck. It was the sort of kiss that said everything was fine, that reassured, that showed love. It was simple and he wanted to rip it into a million pieces. But he didn’t. He was never quite sure what stopped him.

“We can go back to sleep,” he said.

“Okay.”

Light’s hand gripped him tighter and his body curled into his. He could feel hot breath on his neck and a soft, strong heartbeat against his back. He waited, slowing his own breathing until the breathes on the back of his neck became deeper and more even. There was a soft, suggestion of a snore and he knew Light was well and truly asleep. He turned to face him.

Lovely, long eye lashes brushed the top of high cheekbones. An elegant mouth parted slightly. Hair, usually meticulous, fell in a sort of beautiful disarray that came from sleep. Light was beautiful. He had always known that. It was obvious. He looked as if he had been sculpted and, ever since the case ended, he looked more and more perfect. One of his pale hands cupped a perfect, tan cheek. A well of emotions and half memories, like old dreams, swam in his head, almost enough to bury him. 

He felt like he shouldn’t be so perfect. He felt like there should be a monster in there. He felt like the boy who was smart enough to match him was too soft. For what felt like weeks, he’d been looking for a crack in the mask, but there was nothing. But it had to be a mask. Or else why would he dream about Light killing him night after night? Before he could follow this train of thought anymore, a heavy, deep exhaustion fell across him, like a bat to the back of his skull. His eyes fluttered close and as he fell back into a deep, dark sleep, he thought he heard a sigh of relief that came from every corner of the room.


	2. Itch

It was like this. Ever since Kira had lost, he and Light had been in England. They hardly left their room. They worked on cases and played chess and talked and fucked. It was what he imagined a heaven would be like. Or it had seemed that way at first. Now there was an itch at the back of his brain. A half remembered something that nagged at him mercilessly. He knew if he didn’t remember it, something terrible would happen. Every single time he was close, however, something would happen. He’d fall asleep, the case would suddenly need all his attention, Light would…distract him. And then he’d be content until he felt the itch again. Recently, less and less time had passed between almost remembering, forgetting, and then almost remembering again. He’d find himself getting distracted while working or with Light or so exhausted his eyes dragged closed. He’d never slept so much in all his life. 

“Do you ever want to leave?” he’d ask Light once. It was raining. They were playing chess. Light was about to lose, but he didn’t know it yet. 

“No. I’m happy here,” Light had replied. Then he moved a knight and was suddenly winning. It had taken a further two hours of extreme concentration to finally beat him.

Later, it struck him as odd. When they had been chained together, Light had gotten antsy. He hadn’t told him, and he certainly had done his best to hide it, but it was obvious. The way his leg would shake or he’d stare out the window at the busy street below or would show actual interest in one of Matsuda’s ridiculously circuitous and boring stories about whatever had happened to him in the few hours he’d gone home before returning to headquarters. Now, he hardly looked out the window. Furthermore, when he thought about it, he hadn’t really seen anyone but Light in such a long time. Sometimes, he’d catch sight of a boy with red or white or blond hair, an heir, running across the grounds. Their faces were always indistinct, but he didn’t think much of it. He had met them once. They had made an impression, but he hardly knew them. Wammy talked to him over the computer or through the door. There was always an excuse not to see him. An illness or travel or emergency with one of the orphans who he never heard thundering through the halls of the stately manor. Sometimes, he thought he heard whispered snatches of conversation that seemed to come from everywhere at once, but he ignored those. It would be a sign of insanity and he, quite frankly, refused. That seemed like it was more Light’s thing. Well, the Light of before. The current Light was so perfect it felt as if he had ordered him from a catalogue. 

It was a sunny day. He would remember it later and think it was odd for several, many layered reasons. Light was on the computer, reviewing cases. There was a tenseness in his shoulders that meant he was getting annoyed. Annoying him always felt like a bit of an accomplishment these days. 

“A string of burglaries in Surrey? The burglar seems to travel miles in seconds.”

“Burglars. That should be obvious. Are you losing your touch, Light-kin?”

“Same finger prints.”

“There are a million obvious reasons for that. Next.”

“A murder in Toronto. Locked room, no DNA, no signs of a break-in, but --”

“No. Next.”

“A string of kidnappings in Moscow--”

“Next.”

“A man--”

“Next.”

There was a tense little pause.

“You didn’t even let me finish,” Light said. There was a peevishness in his voice that was reminiscent of old times. 

“Hm.”

There was an exasperated sigh and Light opened his mouth to argue. But another voice filled the room. Everywhere and nowhere and louder than he’d ever heard it before. 

“Not the first time this has happened. The other isn’t here. The other can’t be here. But it’s not complete, it’s not perfect. Not unusual. But a mess. Must talk. Must contact the boss. Must--”

“Are you even listening to me?” Light said. He sounded very prissy. 

“Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“The voice.”

Honeyed eyes twisted into worry and a crease formed between perfect brows. In two moments, Light was kneeling by him, one hand on his shoulder, another on his forehead.

“Light-kun is going to get wrinkles,” he said. It didn’t have any effect on Light. 

Things seemed to shift for a moment. Everything went deadly still, Light included. His mouth was in the process of opening to sigh wearily or say something, but there was no breath. He looked like a wax figure suddenly. L felt his heart hitch into his throat and he reached for the other man only for his hands to pass through him. The world twisted and shimmered and he felt as if he were about to be sick.

“You didn’t even let me finish,” Light said. 

“Hm.” 

The noise was out before he could consider it. The itch was back worse than ever and he felt nauseous. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. His heart was beating and the sight of Light brought such a large wave of relief he thought he might faint.

“You have to choose something. You’ll be bored and take it out on me if you don’t.”

“You’ll get bored too.”

“But I’m nicer.”

Light’s mouth was quirked in a sweet smile and he had the urge to kiss him until the itch was gone and there was nothing else in his brilliant, always working mind. 

“Hm. Perhaps, Kira.”

Light laughed. Once it would have made him fume, but now it didn’t. They were passed that. It was better this way. He didn’t miss the old days at all. Light was perfect, he was perfect, they were perfect. They didn’t need anyone else. It was perfect.

“I’m tired of working.”

“We aren’t working. I’m trying to find a new case for us.”

“There is something better we could be doing.”

Light’s eyes blazed. Finally he stood and crossed the room languidly. He bent down to peer into his eyes.

“Is there? Because--”

He didn’t let him finish. He closed the distance and settled a hand on the back of his head, holding him close. He was kissing him as if he would die if he stopped and Light was responding just as eagerly.   
At this rate, they wouldn’t make it to the bed, but it wasn’t the first time that had happened. Before that possibly could be realized, there was a ding from the computer. Light tore himself away and looked towards it.

“What are you doing?”

“I have a feeling…”

“I do too. I thought we were acting on it.”

Light pushed him off as if he were a doll. Sometimes he seemed so much stronger. Sometimes he didn’t. There was an inconsistency to the younger man that was starting to make his brain itch, but he didn’t want that now. He wanted something entirely different. 

Light let out a strangled cry from the computer. Just like that, the mood was broken. He reached Light and the computer and curled long, pale fingers around his tan shoulder. His shirt had been lost sometime between the first kiss and the computer so rudely interrupting them. 

“It’s…he’s back,” Light said. There was a soft tremble in his voice.

“Who?” 

“Kira. Look.”

Light turned the computer towards him and for the first time in a very long time, it felt as if his brain were coming to life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading/commenting/leaving kudos! You guys are amazing. Chapters should be about this length from here on out and updates do appear to be happening Saturdays.


	3. Grey

It was hard to pinpoint exactly where the first case was. Fifty prisoners died in fifty countries at the exact same time. The deaths after that followed a random pattern nearly impossible to trace. It was a thorny, elegant, bitch of a puzzle. This Kira was better than the first two. This Kira was cleverer than he or Light, if such a thing were possible. This Kira had no dramatic flair. A picture was drawn of a meticulous killer, someone just doing their job, as if they were an accountant or a doctor or a baker. He was reminded terribly of Light, when he had first seen him, if that Light had no personality or flair for the dramatic.

“A new death,” Light said.

“Of course. Kira is killing on the hour today.”

“This one is…different.”

Light turned the computer. A boy with dark hair peer back at him. It was a gut punch. Kira had never killed children. Kira had never killed the innocent who didn’t directly oppose him. The boy was twelve. He lived in a town called Lubbock in Texas that was entirely unremarkable. His name was Benjamin Lawton. He had dark hair and large eyes. He was entirely unremarkable.

He sat for some infinite amount of time. Benjamin stared at him and he stared back. Light talked from time to time but nothing made it through but the cadence of his voice. He didn’t realize Light had put a hand on his shoulder until it was gone and he found he didn’t care. He only came back when a package of Panda cookies, the kind with strawberry filling, was put into his hands. He blinked at it owlishly and opened the box. The first panda was playing tennis. He smiled and help it up.

“Look,” he said.

Light barely glanced at it. The crease between his brows was back. He really would get wrinkles if he wasn’t careful.

“You didn’t move for three hours. I was worried.”

It struck him that the old Light either wouldn’t have cared or would have tipped him out of his chair in a fit of anger at being ignored. He wondered when he began to think of the Old Light and the New Light and where the separation had happened.

“We should go to Texas,” he said. He was still holding the panda for Light’s inspection.

“Why?”

He looked at Light, his own mask shattering. Light would never ask why when he knew exactly why. He wouldn’t even argue. He’d agree. He’d be making plans and guesses of his own. The itch in his brain was back because something was off something was wrong with—

“Light.”

The voice rang through the room like a bell and he felt sick. It was the same. It came from everywhere and nowhere. He put his hand in his hands.

“What’s wrong?”

Light was at his side, arms around him. No. That was wrong. He was being supported. He felt weak and limp. His eyes fluttered and the room went dark to the sound of Light’s wordless cry of fear.

* * *

When he awoke, he was on the bed. Light was next to him on the computer. It was dark outside and inside for that matter. The only light came from the laptop. He rolled over to glance at the boy next to him. Light looked like a mannequin in the blue glow. The thought that Light didn’t exist when he wasn’t looking at him sent a thrill of something he couldn’t quite identify through him.

Light, most likely alerted by the sound of his shifting on the blankets turned to him. He put a hand on his head and ran it through his dark, maelstrom of hair.

“You’re going to work yourself to death.”

“Hm. Perhaps.”

Light sighed. He closed the computer and the light was gone. Light still ran his fingers through his hair, as if he were a beloved cat. He shut his eyes. He was tired. He felt like he had run a marathon.

“Any news?”

“Four more dead, Hong Kong, Johannesburg, and two in San Quentin.”

“It’s overcrowded, famously so.”

“I know. But they stopped. No deaths in the past two hours.”

“We should reassemble the task force.”

He wasn’t sure if his words were audible. His brain felt like it was turning to mush. He didn’t like it. If he didn’t have his intelligence he was nothing but an asshole made of eccentricities. Light stopped running his fingers through his hair. He felt rather than saw him lie next to him. An arm looped around his waist. New Light was far touchier than Old Light, but that one at least made a certain degree of sense.

“We shouldn’t. I don’t want to involve them. They…the last case was hard. It nearly killed my father, and this one would kill him and I doubt the others would make it out unscathed.”

“Since when do you care?”

The question hung precariously between them. He could almost feel Light’s innocent eyes on him and it felt like old times for just a little bit. They had woken up like this a few times, back in headquarters, back when they had the chain. Both had blushed heavily and avoided eye contact which was hard given their circumstances until things felt normal again.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You didn’t before. I don’t know if you cared about anyone. Your father, actually, yes. And perhaps your sister. But the others? They slowed you down or got in your way. They were annoyances. We talked about it.”

They had. Another intimacy echoed here. The late-night talks when Light had been drowsy from work and he had begun to perfect the art of sleeping with another. They had talked then, mostly about the case, mostly about their coworkers. It had made him sure Light was Kira. He wondered why they didn’t kiss back then.

The silence was deafening. The hand shifted, unable to decide if it still wanted to hold him or not. It was something of a metaphor for them, he thought.

“People change.”

“Hm. Not in my experience.”

“You’re being difficult.”

“You’re being a liar.”

He felt Light’s sigh. A soft wash of breath over his face. He wanted to bask in it, like a lizard under a heat lamp. It smelt of coffee, which was not especially pleasant, and Light, which was. Light pulled him close and tucked him under his chin. He responded, because he always did. A pale, thin arm snaked around Light and held him as if he were the only real thing in the world. 

“The boy, Benjamin Lawton, is getting to you.”

“Hm.”

It was not agreement, because Light was not right, but it wasn’t disagreement either. A kiss pressed against the crown of his head.

“We’ll solve it. We always do.”

“Yes.”

Light tilted his head up and kissed him. He knew by the second kiss where this was going, where is always went, and wondered when they had stopped fighting. When Light had become so reasonable and perfect.

When they were done, Light slept cheek pressed to his pale chest. Moonlight filled the room. Despite the near fight and the fainting and the deaths, it had been a good day. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, it grumbled that it was always a good day and that it was monotonous. Tired of it all, he ignored it, held Light close, and drifted into a deep sleep.

When he woke, he was covered in cold sweat and Light had curled away from him. The image of red eyes seared his eyes. 

* * *

  _Interlude I_

_Greyness abounded and hot sand choked him. He struggled through it, his mind nothing but whirring gears, completely lost and completely empty. The only thing he could remember outside of the grey nothingness was a pair of large, liquid, dark grey eyes._

_Whatever his reason for being there, he clearly had not thought it out. He was in a suit. He was wearing dress shoes, the kind that slipped and filled with sand which, in turn, filled his feet with tiny cuts. Whatever the sand was, it was terrible. It felt more like ground bits of glass than anything else. It occurred to him that he shouldn’t breathe the stuff in. It occurred to him that things like that hardly mattered anymore._

_He walked till exhaustion and then kept going. He didn’t know what he was going to, he just knew that he had to get there. There was something bitterly annoying about the whole damn situation. Something like rage and embarrassment and grief and a choking, wild madness filled him every time he tried to remember anything that had happened before the grey, so he stopped._

_When he reached the small circle of huts, exhaustion had already torn through him and rendered him small and pale and paper thin. He chose the only uninhabited hut. Two creatures peered at him from the other doorways, but he ignored them. He ignored the food on the table and the water in the bucket, though hunger and thirst ate at him like wolves. He fell onto the bed, winced, removed the offending book that had dug into his ribs, and fell into the kind of sleep that only happens in fairytales, deep and living and dreamless._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading/commenting/leaving kudos! I always get super excited whenever I see them! Also I hope the interlude isn't too confusing. If it is, let me know and I'll figure out a way to make it better.
> 
> Also I updated tags because I did an outline (finally?) and realized there are some more characters with bigger parts to play than I initially thought.


	4. Stop

Days blur and blur and blur. There were three more boys killed: Lucas Bustos of Temuco, Chile, Ludvig Bengtsson of Lund, Sweden, and Bharat Langhari of Jaipur, India. All of them were twelve. All of them had dark hair and large eyes and thin faces. All of them taunted him and he knew exactly what they were meant to tell him. The only thing he cannot figure out is why.

Light is perfect in all of this. It was like when he was investigating Kira, the first time, and Light took control because he was in one of his moods that made him angry and sullen and completely unwilling to do anything. Light compiled data. Light told him his theories, each a brilliant jeweled thing that made his heart ache. Each was wrong, wrong, wrong. In this world there are only two people alive who understand what Bs and Ls and boys with dark hair and large, haunting eyes meant. One is him and one is Wammy and neither of them are murders.

It is the kind of late at night when everything feels slightly sick. He had lost track of how much coffee he had had. Light was all dark circles and mussed hair. It was charming, to see him so undone. To see him imperfect, without meaning to be, without fevered kisses is rare. He wanted to fix his hair and run a thumb over the puffed, sickly grey bags under his soft, honeyed eyes. But he didn’t. He stared at the wall, running the information over and over again in his perfect mind, which was running slowly, like a car in bad need of a tune up.

“You should get some sleep,” Light said, as if he could read his thought. It wouldn’t have been that surprising if he could, come to think of it.

“I’m fine.”

“You look horrible.”

“So does Light.”

Light let out a sigh that turned into a soft chuckle.

“Maybe we should both get some sleep.”

He more tolerated than let Light take him by the wrist and lead him through the routine. Pajamas, brush teeth, wash face, wait while Light finishes his production in the bathroom, curl in bed, lights out. Light’s arm draped lightly across his stomach. His eyes peered into the darkness. They were large and wide and endless. He was often told it was unnerving when he was a boy. His mind cannot stop whirring and whirring and whirring like some sort of machine.

“I can hear you thinking. Stop it,” Light said. His voice is already fuzzed with sleep.

“Impossible.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“The case.”

Light sighed. He removed his arm and shifted so that he could look into his eyes. His hair was more mussed and in the darkness, his exhaustion luminous.

“Close your eyes,” Light said.

He complied. Light shifted him onto his stomach and rubbed soft circles into his back. When he talked his voice was soft and hypnotic.

“Concentrate on your breathing and your heartbeat.”

“But-”

“Sh. Just take deep breathes. Like this.”

Light breathed in and out. He copied. It had always been hard to deny him the simple things.

“Good.”

His mind fogged with sleep. Ligth’s hands were soft on his back. Before long, he fell into a deep, black sleep. In his dreams, they were back at headquarters in Japan, on the roof, and it was raining. He was weighed down with sorrow and Light was different. He was brilliant and cold and cruel and soft and so, so clever. When he woke, he still had a lump in his throat and for just a moment the man laying next to him was such a pale copy it seemed as if he could see right through him to the smooth, soft sheets below him. He shook his head and the illusion was gone. For the first time in days and days and days, the itch was back.

Light opened his soft, amber eyes and smiled at him. He pulled him into a short good morning kiss. One full night of sleep had transformed him back into his perfect self.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” he said. It wasn’t a lie, but it didn’t feel like the truth either. “You were very helpful.”

“Good. My mother used to do that with me when I was young. I had insomnia for a few months when I was in middle school.”

“I know. I studied it when…”

“When you thought I was Kira.”

The sentence was short and matter of fact. Something like guilt twisted in his stomach, but he could ignore it. He let a silence grow between them until Light sighed, stood, and went to shower.

The sound of the water was soothing and almost lulled him into forgetting. Almost. There was the case, but that did not interest him as much as the itch. He has a feeling that something was indeed wrong and that it meant something bad for him and bad for Light and he cannot have that. He could count the number of people he has ever cared about in a real, serious way on less than one hand. He could not lose any of them, even if the one in question was once his number one suspect in a case he is still surprised did not kill him.

When Light finished showering, he made him eat breakfast because Light was very often his mother. When he had eaten enough of the fruit and yoghurt to satisfy Light, they work. Or, more accurately, Light worked. He did not. He thought.  They key to whatever it was was Light. Light haunted his dreams and Light triggered the itch. He could observe him coldly, without feeling. He had done it before. It was harder than he would have thought to turn off his feelings for him, but he managed it. Light went from being the warm, living thing who shared his bed, his space, his life, to a collection of files. To a puzzle, waiting for a solution, and what a beautiful puzzle he was.

A list was made. It was comprehensive and covers everything about Light he remembers from the investigation and then everything afterwards. That, he realized, was his marker for Old Light and New Light. He knew better than to write in English or Japanese, so the list is made in Russian. He told Light a simple lie, that he wanted to keep his brain sharp, that he needed a challenge. Light accepted it without further questions and he added a note to his ever growing list.

He completed the list around lunch. It had grown to several pages and looked as if it were written by a madman. The next step, of course, would be questions. Before, this had annoyed Light. He had resented being bombarded. He had been more annoyed in general, but that had already been noted. It was near the top of the seventh page.  

“Would you like to play tennis?” he asked. The day was sunny and mild. A gentle breeze flowed through the window and there were just enough clouds to be picturesque. It was perfect.

“Not today. Can you take a look at the latest victim? There’s a connection here somewhere.”

“Hm. Yes.”

A note is added. In the past, Light would never have let a challenge go. He would have welcomed it and tried to beat him until he sweated blood. He also would have welcomed the opportunity to exercise, as he was nothing if not a perfectionist, and leave the room which was starting to feel entirely to cramped.

A few hours later, during tea, Light stole a forkful of his cake with a mischievous smile. Tea was something Light clung to. He said he liked the idea of it, of the short break, of the ceremony. It all lined up with his previous personality. That had been noted in the appendices he had created for his list.

“Why didn’t you eat sweets when we were chained together?” he asked. It also annoyed him when Light stole his cake, but he hadn’t mentioned it. It seemed so trivial a thing.

“I didn’t?”

“No. But you do now. I thought you disliked sweets.”

A shrug and a plea to get back to work is his only response.

Later, when it was dark and his eyes were starting to itch, he studied Light. Light was still beautiful, even when he was tired and clenching his jaw unsuccessfully against what must have been a very, very big yawn.

“When did we first kiss?”

The question hung before him. Light blinked at him in surprise and he suddenly found he couldn’t remember. Or he could. It was like watching a very, very old movie in his mind. The two of them on a roof, slicked with rain. He was all pain and grief and Light was all smirking power and victory and masked confusion. And Light was Kira. But it wasn’t right. They didn’t go on the roof of the old building. He was almost positive. And Light was never like that.

“After you asked me to work with you. You know that.”

Another memory replaced the other so completely a lesser mind would hardly notice. It was sunny. Light was overjoyed. Kira was caught. The kiss was an eventuality to the both of them, but they still acted surprised. In less than twenty-four hours, they will be in England and they will never look back.

“Are you even working anymore?” Light asked. There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

“No, no. I suppose not.”

“Then let’s get some rest.”

“All right.”

They did that same things they do every night and curl together in bed. There should have been nothing but peace or the case on his mind, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the voice and how insubstantial Light looked in the moonlight. The thought that none of it was real feels more correct than he wanted it to and just like that, nothing else mattered anymore.

By the next day, he hardly cared about the case anymore. More boys with big, dark eyes and dark hair die. They all had B and L as their initials. Light tried everything to get a reaction out of him, but nothing could possible work. In the end, Light slapped him out of worry or annoyance or some combination there of. He put his hand to his cheek and let out a sort of desperate laugh. Light felt so bad he couldn’t look at him. Neither of them even pretended to sleep that night.  In the morning, Light is slumped in his computer chair, finally succumbing to sleep.

He is surprised to find that Light’s chest still moved up and down, even when he was in his deepest sleep. Whatever this was, it was terrifyingly lifelike.

Two days passed like that, with the addition of two of them hardly talking, much less touching and Light skulking around apologetically.

He was so tired of it all he wanted to scream or throw himself from the window, except a jump from that height would most likely result in nothing worse than a sprained ankle which would not have adequately reflect his current mental state.

Finally, Light broke, stopped his pacing, which had been going on for hours, and forced him to sit. He cupped his face with soft, golden hands. There were bags under both their eyes and Light looked as if something in him had been broken beyond repair.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Don’t you feel it?”

“No.”

“I am 91% certain that our entire reality is off.”

“Our—what?”

“Nothing. Whatever is happening doesn’t effect you.”

Worry skipped across Light’s face and he felt like he’s said to much. He slipped from Light’s grasp.

“I’m worried about you,” Light said. The wrinkle was back, so he reached out to smooth it.

“Yes. I…I am bored.”

“Why? What do you want?”

“For something to happen.”

“Something?”

“We are stuck. We are trapped. We…we haven’t left this room in…in…I don’t know how long. I need…I need…it doesn’t feel dangerous. This Kira, they won’t hurt us.”

Light shifted and was suddenly pitiful. There were something like tears in his eyes. It was ridiculous. But a pale thumb is reached out to wipe it away. Light caught his hand easily and the grip on his wrist felt tight enough to bruise.

“Why can’t you just be happy? We are together. We are…I don’t know if we’re safe, but Kira doesn’t know who we are. We are happy. We don’t fight like we used to. You are finally sleeping and…isn’t this enough.” It wasn’t a question. It was a plea. Something shifted and he leaned in to kiss Light’s forehead. Fine. Whatever it was that was trying to keep him ignorant won in that moment. Real or not, he couldn’t stand Light looking at him like that.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He meant it. This may have been the first time ever.

Light smiled. They had been tears in his eyes and they fall now. He had seen Light cry before, from frustration and anger, but never from something so tender as whatever this was. He looked younger than he ever has, but he couldn’t be more than 20 or 23 or 25. Suddenly, like a bolt from heaven, it occurred to him that he didn’t know how long they’ve been in that room. No birthdays or holidays had been celebrated which was unlike Light, who was undoubtedly the kind of person to care about his own birthday.

“How old are you?”

Light started to answer and froze and it happened again. L hadn’t taken his hands off Light and now he felt like a doll. Light didn’t breathe, his heart didn’t beat, and his flesh felt like cloth or leather or something like that. L closed his eyes and willed it away. If he was going crazy, it was a long time coming quite frankly, he will not let Light worry.

When everything went back to normal, his lips were on Light’s forehead. Relief flooded him. He held Light and let the other man cry quietly until it was okay again. They next day, he threw himself into the case. He told Light about A and B and their deaths and how Kira was connected to the two of them and Light listened with soft concern and they were so fucking close to figuring it out.

A woman who looked like A would have if she lived was caught by a security camera in Dublin. She was so close to them and they will to stop her, safely, from their room. He will get his answers and Light will get his peace of mind and maybe this time Kira will finally be gone forever.

Light was tapping his finger nervously as their men approached the woman. She had the same vividly red hair as A and same light dusting of freckles. She wore a scarf, which would hide any scar left by a rope. It was like seeing a ghost because that is what she has been for over ten years.

They both jumped when the men break down the door and the door to their room shattered into a million pieces. He whipped around and saw two boys, barely younger than Light. The taller, obviously angrier one would have been beautiful if not for the scar covering half his face. He had shoulder length blond hair and wore leather. The other one had red hair, a cigarette, and ridiculous googles. He was calmer. He must have been the back up. He did not let out a snarl and cross the room in several quick steps to punch Light in the face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That chapter was super difficult for some reason. But its done, so yay! Also, its up early this week as I'm going to the science march tomorrow AND the book fest and my poor, geeky heart might burst from excitement. 
> 
> Thanks for your continued support! Every kudos/comment brightens my day!


	5. Monster

He was between Light and the blond man in a second. One outstretched hand was buried in Light’s shirt in a pale attempt to hold him back, the other waved at the other man, a warning to stay away.

“What the FUCK is he doing here?” the blond said.

“We don’t have long, Mel. Really wanna waste it on this?” the other one said. He had pulled a gaming device out of his pocket.

The blond one let out a groan of rage or possibly annoyance and took a step back. He didn’t exactly settle, but it seemed like violence was a lot less imminent.

“Better choice,” the red head said. There was a hint of laughter in his voice.

“L, listen-“ the blond said, focus on him. His eyes were purposely looking anywhere but Light.

“Who are you?”

That got both their attention. The blond man looked like a small child who had just been hit and the red head just looked stunned.

“Wow,” the red head breathed.

The blond was already striding away.

“What are you doing? We need to-“

“He doesn’t know who I am. Who cares,” the blond said. It sounded like a lie.

“Whatever,” the red head said. The gaming device was in his pocket and he brushed past the blond. He held out a hand.

“Hey, I’m Matt, that’s Mello. We’re-“

“Children. Outside. Mello is number two, you are three.”

At the mention of his number, Mello let out a hiss of pain.

“He’s sensitive about that and yeah. We are. But-“

“You look at least…19 or 20.”

“Bang on, but let me-“

“You’re 14, 13, 12, something like that. You aren’t-“

“We don’t have much-“

The door opened. An annoyed grown-up, some nameless, faceless teacher was leading two teenage boys out by their hands. They were following more docilly than they should have, considering, with their backs to him. The teacher was muttering apologies. He was accepting them before his brain could catch up. Light locked the door behind them.

“We should get a better lock,” he said, half amused, hand still on his injured cheek.

“Hm?”

“If those two can break in, anyone can.”

“The orphans at this institute are highly trained and-”

“Extraordinary. I know. You say it on a nearly daily basis.”

This rang false, but he was too confused to look much into that. It felt as if reality had just subtly shifted in one direction. Again. It was becoming too common an occurrence.

“The case,” he said in as close to alarm as his voice ever got.

“They’re still outside. Sit down.”

He sat and he watched, only half paying attention as the woman was apprehended and proven to be a fake. A very, very clever fake, but a fake none the less. The woman had a cyanide pill on her. She died twitching and foaming before anything could be done.

Light took his silence as a sullen anger the stem from being outwitted and brought him too sweet tea, a plate of cookies, and ran a hand through his wild hair. He pretended that was it. He let him think it. It was easier than explaining anything. The adult Mello’s hurt gaze when he said he didn’t remember him flicked across his mind more than he liked to admit. Something was wrong.

That night, after Light was snoring peacefully, he got up and paced. It was the first time in…in however long it had been since they’d arrived that he’d had insomnia. When he gave up and sat at the computer to work, there was a message. The sender was unknown and it was dated 0/0/000.

“We will be back soon. Mel swears he won’t punch Light this time, even though he deserves it. We need to talk to you.”

He blinked and it was gone, even though he knew he didn’t erase it. He was still digging through the server trying to find it when Light awoke the next morning.

* * *

 

_Interlude II._

_He woke after an indeterminate time. He had noticed on his trek here that it always looked the same. There had been no sunrises or sunsets or stars on his journey, just the grey, gritty sand and howling wind. The first thing he noticed upon waking was that he ached. He was hungry and thirsty and his legs burned as if he had run six consecutive marathons, which he had for all he knew. The second thing he noticed was that he still ached with exhaustion. He had a feeling he could sleep until hell froze over (if he wasn’t there already) and still be tired. The third was that he was starting to remember bits and pieces of his old life._

_There had been a journal, there had been a monster, there had been a man with dark eyes. All three things made him feel…something and each something was different. He decided he would analyze it later. He had nothing better to do and maybe it would help him remember. Now, he was thirsty. A apple, red and juicy, sat on the table awaiting him. A bucket of cool water sat under a spout. It was not exactly the feast he craved, but it would do._

_As he stood, he saw the book he had tossed on the floor. D’Aularius’ Greek Myths. A memory of a short woman with a kind face reading to him shot across his mind before he could make heads or tails of it. He picked it up cautiously, as if the thing could grow teeth. It had fallen open to the myth of Hades and Persephone. He skimmed it and his heart shot into his throat. He was exceedingly clever. Even if he couldn’t remember his name he could remember that. And he knew a clue when he saw it. _

_As quickly as he could, he seized the apple, opened the door, and hurled it into the howling wind. He could have swore he heard grating laughter as he did so. His stomach gave a hallow rumble and he eyed the water warily before deciding not to risk it. There were stories of what happened to people who ate or drank in strange lands and he had absolutely no intention of being stuck there forever. He had things to do. He couldn’t remember them, but he was certain they were important._

_That day, he read the book, paying special attention to Hades and Persephone. Then he slept again. Then he awoke, gut clenching with hunger pains and lips cracking from thirst. His second day in the hut he spent in an agony, made three times as bad by the hunger, thirst, and soul crushing boredom. The third day, there was a knock on the door. And so, because he was certain that he was nothing if not polite and well mannered, he answered it._

_A monster greeted him. She was pale and looked as if she were made of a single, white stone, the kind that washed up on the beach, that had translucent veins running through it. She had thick, dark spines that fell to her shoulders in place of hair and her mouth was a vividly red slash. Disgustingly pale, veined wings grew from her back. There was something that suggested at a lost great beauty and cleverness about her. He did his best to hide his shock, but it hardly worked._

_“Hello,” the monster said._

_“Hello,” he replied. His voice was a dry croak._

_“You are new.”_

_“Yes. Who are you?”_

_“Miri,” the monster said, as if the name tasted unfamiliar in her mouth._

_“What do you want?”_

_“I’m bored,” she sighed. “I was hoping you were more interesting than…he is.”_

_She pointed towards the hut opposite his own. Her hands ended in claws that matched her mouth._

_“Can I come in?” she asked._

_He nodded and moved aside. At least she had manners._

_“What is this place?” he asked. He didn’t offer her food or drink because he had thrown the apple away and poured the water out._

_“Mu. Nothingness.”_

_“How do I leave?”_

_“You don’t,” she said. There was a hint of laughter in her voice. He decided he hated her, but hid it. She was already looking at him with a gleam of something hungry in her eyes. He knew he could use it._

_He leaned forward, arranging his face into a charming smile._

_“Tell me, Miri, how did you get here?”_

_Her face lit up and she started talking. He lost interest in less than five minutes. It was his story, repeated in her husky, feminine voice. But she said she could remember a little bit from before. She had been called Takada and she had served someone called Kira. The name Kira sent a rush of pride and power through him, though he could feel just the barest hint of shame too. The whole time, Miri looked at him as if she knows him._

_“We met, I think. In the other world, where it wasn’t so…”_

_She trailed off. A million perfect ways to finish her sentence fill his head, but he nodded, encouraging her to go on. It felt like an old habit and, now that he looked at her, she did seem more familiar than she had._

_“I think so too.” He looked down, made his voice soft. When he glanced at her through his bangs, her eyes were wide and her mouth was arranged in a small smile._

_“Who is the other one?” he asked._

_“Who?” she replied. She had forgotten. Pride streaked through him._

_“The other one. You said I was more interesting. Is that true?”_

_“So far. And his name is…I don’t know. He won’t say. He just talks about nothing.”_

_An annoyed look floated across her face. He would remember it. If the two of them didn’t get along, it would make his life a little bit easier. The start of a plan was forming in his mind. It felt like he was finally waking up from a decades long sleep._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and kudosing and whatnot! Hope you're enjoying the story so far. Things are going to get a little more exciting from here on out. Next chapter is already pretty long and I am not done with it yet.


	6. Puppet

He did not have long to wait. The two of them, Matt and Mello, older and rougher than they were outside his window and more vibrant than anything he’d ever seen, came back within hours of their message. It had been days for them, but he took that in stride. If reality was off, why not time as well?

“L, we should-” Light said softly in his ear. His breath was cooler than it should have been across his neck.

“So we don’t have a lot of time,” Matt said. He was the more talkative of the two. Mello was violence and hard, fierce eyes. He was standing with his arms crossed tightly across his chest with a glare fixed on Light. Something about him was reminiscent of a child who had lost a game and was no longer allowed to play.

“Go on.”

The message and their ages and their appearance was a better mystery than anything he’d ever encountered. A and the Fourth Kira were completely boring to him now.  Light was an anxious presence with one eye on the computer and one on the three geniuses.

“It’s not…easy to understand, but-” Matt started. He stopped and looked to Mello who nodded with certainty.

“I’m clever. I am certain I will have no problems.”

“You died.”

The two words broke and twisted in the air before him. The room tipped on its axis and a million dusty memories flooded him of Light and the case and what had happened. The rooftop, the helicopter, the monster, the notebook.

Of course. He was. How foolish to forget.

“L!”

A firm arm was around his back. His hand clutched at a shoulder. Light was staring at him. Bile rose in his throat, but this was wrong. Light did not have red eyes. He did not smirk. There was no triumph only concern and fear and something empty. He pushed him off just the same because if he was dead, if Light had killed him, then this was not Light.

“My apologies. Go on,” L said.

Matt and Mello were frozen a few feet from him with identical expressions of shock. Of course, he was infallible. They had all been told that. He had seen them many, many times, but this must have been the second or third time they had ever seen his face.

“You were killed by-”

“Kira. I remember now.”

“Then why is he here?” Mello asked. His voice was stone.

L looked back at Light. He was looking at all of them, at a loss for words. He would have to stop thinking of him as Light.

“You know why. Soul mate thing,” Matt muttered.

Mello let out a wordless noise of disgust or anger and L let out a short laugh. Of course Light would be his soulmate. No one else was clever or complicated or interesting enough.

“He’s not Light,” L said.

“Whatever. You can escape, which is why we found you. Um, we, um…” Matt trailed off, looking away. Whatever the heart of the matter was it was something uncomfortable.

“We you’d rather be with us,” Mello said. He did not look at anyone.

L was touched in a way he could not quite explain.

“It get boring and we thought…we thought you’d be happier with us. And we found Wammy. And he wanted us to find you and he wants to see you again and its…I found a way to link us all up. Its really like just a massive computer, this whole after life thing. And that was my specialty, computers, it took a while, but I figured it out. You see-”

“Short on time, Matt,” Mello grumbled. There was a softness to his voice though.

“Right. Long story short, Wammy’s house, where he is with his wife, our…the car, my car, and your room can all be linked so we can…so you can…it’s better, isn’t it? Not to be alone. We…we thought…”

“You thought I was alone,” L said. It made sense. There was no reason for them not to.

“Yes,” Mello said because Matt couldn’t.

“I am. Tell Wammy I will see him shortly. I have something I must take care of first. Thank you for your help,” L said. He was already turning his back and getting into his chair.

“What do you have to do? Just come with us!” Mello said. He was already reaching for him when Matt put a hand on his arm.

“Yeah, well, you need to find your own way out. If you follow us, you’ll just be stuck in Wammy’s place.”

“And if I don’t?” L asked.

“You’ll find an…I don’t know. They call themselves guides or architects or-”

“Angles,” Mello said. His hand was clasped around the heavy cross he had always worn.

“Whatever it is, it will at least talk to you,” Matt finished.

“I see. Thank you for your help.”

L was already turning his back on them.

“L, wait,” Mello said. His voice was younger than it had been.

“Come on, Mel. We should go.”

“But-”

“He’ll make his own decisions.”

Mello didn’t argue. L turned to see them go. He felt like he had let them down. He glanced at the Other Light, the Fake Light, who was still looking from a phantom Matt to Mello to him. A sadness seized his heart and he reached out to take his chin. The Fake Light looked like a glitch. L kissed him because even if he was a puppet, a pale imitation, he had been good to him and maybe it would fix him and let him live however he wanted, without him, without Light’s face.

The Puppet Light shut his eyes and slumped. With a heavy heart, L lay him on the bed. He doubted the thing would ever wake.

* * *

 

_Interlude III._

_When he met the other one, it became immediately clear that he was slightly younger than Miri. There was something distinctly human about him and it was vaguely nauseating. His hair was turning to feathers and his skin was turning a sickly green. His hands ended in what were almost certainly razor sharp points stained black as if with ink and his eyes flashed and shone in the half light of the place. There was a grotesque beauty to him._

_Miri had been the one to bring him with a look of mild annoyance. The half-human thing had bowed low once he set eyes on him. It was not unwelcome, but certainly perplexing, until the creature opened his mouth to speak and then several things became very, very clear all at once._

_“My lord Kira. You’ve come to save us. I waited and waited and I was certain you would save us. Was I a good servant? Did I do what I should have?”_

_He smiled, a harsh crescent of a thing, and put a hand on the creature’s head. Kira, of course, was him. And these two had been his servants. And they had nearly ruled the world. All of that had ended in a hail of gunfire, of course, but that was no reason to give up hope entirely._

_“Yes. You were. You may rise,” he, Kira, the newly named, said._

_The half-human thing stood. He had the thin, stretched look of someone going through a growth spurt._

_“What do you call yourself?”_

_“I…I can’t remember. Mik…Ter…something like that.”_

_He rolled his eyes. If the thing didn’t want a name, he wouldn’t give him one._

_“You’re Kira?” Miri asked. Her face was paler and her eyes were large._

_“I am. I had forgotten,” he said, ducking his head in false modesty or embarrassment or something. It didn’t matter as long as her eyes softened and a small blush rose on her cheeks. A glance through his bangs told him it had worked on both of them._

_“What are we going to do now?” the half-human one asked._

_“We failed,” Miri said._

_He glared at her. His eyes were flashing scarlet and he would have struck her down if he had the power. He did not fail. He never failed. To Miri’s credit, she didn’t quail under his glare, though she did look away. He could vaguely remember that she’d been cleverer than any of his other lackeys, even if a sweet word or a loving glance could have her ready to die for him._

_“We didn’t fail. The game is still going. We are going to get out of here and we are going to take what is ours. I am a god and gods do not die. How did you change?”_

_“It just happens,” Miri shrugged._

_“Something with the food,” the half-human one said._

_“Then speed it up. When you are both fully transformed, no one will be able to stop us. I can take what is mine and you will sit at my left and right hands. Now leave me. I have much to do.”_

_The made their goodbyes with shining eyes. He felt better, but the euphoria didn’t last long. It was replaced with a great, hulking boredom._

_Time passed. He grew thin and ragged. Miri assured him he looked more beautiful than ever. The half-human one even offered himself to him, but he was turned down. He didn’t have time or interest. He did kiss Miri, once, to see if she could be controlled that way. It was extremely unpleasant and he found humans and the monsters, almost assuredly fledgling Shinigami, entirely incompatible. His moods were inconsistent. He would start to plan and scheme only to be thrown into a dark, deep boredom moments later. He thought of L constantly. Each new scheme became a parry to an imagined blow from L. If he had been obsessive before, it was nothing compared to now._

_For the first time, he allowed himself to admit how much he missed L. It was brief. It was nothing. It was a mistake and something he would never do again._

_And yet._

_It was as close to night as it got there. He was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, ignoring the hunger in his stomach because he was already dead. It couldn’t hurt him. It was a lie, just like everything else. His thoughts had been churning. He had dismissed a new plan already. He had dismissed close to fifty and in fact might have dismissed this one twice. A sudden thought left him utterly breathless. He could find L._

_The thought made him smile, like when he was weak and couldn’t remember a damn thing. They were…they were well matched. No one had ever challenged him and…and he had never actually meant it when he’d kissed anyone else. It was stupid to dwell on it. A single kiss in the rain on a rooftop with a dead man. It hadn’t even been particularly good._

_But the first scream of anguish when L fell had been real._

_He shook his head. His thoughts were cloudy with L and how it never felt right when Miri or the half-human one (who still couldn’t settle on a name and he couldn’t be bothered to care about that) called him Kira. He shifted to his side. The shame at knowing he’d be crying if he could burned within him._

_“Fuck. I might have loved him,” he whispered to the darkness._

_The next day he awoke with new purpose. Miri and the other one were waiting for him, as always. He told them he knew what they would do. They would find L and destroy his great enemy once and for all. He did not tell them that the thought of L kept him up at night._

_The place was dreary in its sameness, but he had a theory that it was controllable. He proved it when he made a book on metaphysics appear in his hut. The process left him with a pounding headache and Miri told him afterwards that he had slept for three days. But it was manipulatable and he was fairly confident in his skills of manipulation. The monsters couldn’t do it, but he would leave them. He didn’t need them when he was alive and he didn’t need them now._

_A knock at his door woke him from a feverish dream about L and rain and death. He half expected the man to be standing there, a smile of triumph at having bested him yet again on his odd, pale face._

_The figure waiting on his stoop squealed with delight the moment she saw him. He blinked, trying to will her away, but it didn’t work. A small, blonde figure in black lace was jumping into his arms and he caught her on pure instinct._

_“LIIIIGHT!!!” she screeched in his ear. And that was his other name and it felt so much better he wanted to laugh, but he didn’t. He was being half strangled by the single most annoying person he had ever encountered and it was hard to do anything else but gasp and pry her arm from around his neck._

_“Misa.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its a little late this week! Work and school have conspired to kill me this week, which is very not cool.
> 
> Anyway, this is the chapter that sort of reveals the twist, though I'm not entirely sure its a good twist. 
> 
> Hope everyone enjoyed and thanks for reading and kudosing and all that good stuff!


	7. Exit

It took exactly a week to find the exit. Matt sent him a complicated email about how all the entering and exiting and moving between different afterlives worked. It seemed that each door could be used once and, once it was used, it would only lead to that one place. That left out the front door, the most logical exit, to L’s great annoyance. The next most obvious choice was the windows. He took a breath and threw himself out one day only to find that himself tumbling onto his own floor. Whatever was keeping him here was clever and knew he was clever. The voice that used to fill the room periodically now filled his ears with an indistinct mumbling. It was impossible to sleep, but he was used to that.

The solution came in a way that seemed so simple he should have grasped it immediately. He was prowling the room looking for an exit when his eyes fell on the large, ornate wardrobe. He smiled, remembering the book he’d read when he was five, shortly after coming to the orphanage. He had tried to find Narnia in every wardrobe in the house but with no luck. He could have kicked himself when the inspiration struck.

He felt foolish moving aside the plain white shirts and jeans, but when he reached for the back of the wardrobe, he felt nothing. He let out a soft laugh of triumph and moved forward, relief flooding him.

At the last moment, he looked back at the room with a pange of sadness at the lone, figure on the bed. But he didn’t want to think about that, so he didn’t.

The wardrobe gave way to a blank space. A large panda was sitting there looking at him with eyes far to intelligent for a bear. It shifted seamlessly to a large, black dog, and then a fox.

“Hello,” L said, as if this were normal, as if he ran into magical, shape-shifting animals everyday.

“You found your way out,” the voice coming from the fox turned badger was the same that had filled his room.

“Yes. I’m quite intelligent.”

“We know.”

The badger sifted into a tiger and an ostrich and a pufferfish.

“You have questions,” the pufferfish turned osprey said.

“Yes. Will you please stop that? It is very…” he trailed off. It was confusing and off-putting, but he wasn’t ready to admit that, not till he knew what manner of thing he was dealing with.

“No. You cannot comprehend my true form.”

“I will judge that.”

The osprey turned scarab turned alligator turned elephant sighed.

“Fine.”

It changed and his heart leapt in his chest. The Shinigami that had killed him stood there, staring at him with her yellow eyes.

“You,” he said. “You were working with Light even after-”

“You see me as Rem. Interesting,” the thing said.

“You aren’t-”

“No. There are names for us, but we have none of our own. Think of me as a maker or a manager or a creator or an angel or any manner of thing. I mold afterlives for the deceased. I am certainly going to be punished beyond your comprehension for allowing two escapes in so short a time.”

“Matt and Mello were under your control?”

“Yes. I gave them a nice heaven, the 405 at three in the morning, when it is deserted and you can drive as fast as you dare. And you-”

“Yes, yes. It was very nice,” L says with a wave of his hand. “Where’s Light?”

“You left him,” the thing said. It was lying and it was not very good at it.

“That wasn’t him. It was too nice.”                             

“Fine. He’s where you can’t reach him. He chose to write in the Deathnote and soon he will be one of these things you fear so much.”

“I don’t fear them,” L said. He could feel a cool chill run down his back at the thought of losing Light permanently.

“You are afraid now.”

“How do I save Light?”

The thing gave him an inquiring look.

“I am aware it is a foolish question, but I would much rather have the real him than whatever that thing you gave me was.”

“I am not surprised. You two are linked and things are…difficult when those who are linked end up in different places. I am amazed you think he can be saved. He cannot. He made his choice.”

“Then how do I find him?”

“You can’t save him.”

“Finding and saving are two entirely different things.”

“He is in Mu,” the thing said after some thought.

“How do I get there?”

“You walk.”

“How do I know you aren’t lying?”

“I am not skilled at it and you are already out. It hardly matters where you want to go now. You know the secret,” the thing was dismissive and annoyed and it suddenly seemed more human than it had previously.

L felt as if he should thank the thing, but it was already moving away, as if distracted by something else. The Shinigami was turning into a bear very, very slowly.

“You are keeping me from my work. Go and do what you will. It hardly matters to me anymore.”

The thing was gone as suddenly as it appeared and L began to walk.

* * *

 

_Interlude IV._

_Misa was a god damn annoyance, but she had her uses. She could create things with her mind too, as long as she didn’t eat the food. Sure, she would cling to Light and complain loudly about her hunger and thirst, but she didn’t question him and he was growing weary of his headaches. He had found that Takada and Mikami were unable to create things out of thin air and blamed the transformation. He also found that it was hard to think of them as anything else now that he could remember everything._

_The road was growing. Misa, as ever, did everything he told her with great enthusiasm and they were moving much, much faster now. They had begun to move down the road. It was hard to mark how far they had moved after their huts disappeared, but he supposed it didn’t matter. They would get there eventually._

_Things were going exactly as planned. The road was growing, Misa, Mikami, and Takada were his loyal subjects once again, and he would see L soon. He would rub his victory in his face before going back to his world to finish the job and take his rightful place as the new god. Or he would just bask in his presence, happy to see him again. He hadn’t quite decided._

_One the eighteenth day they had been building and travelling down the road, the other Shinigami found them. Takada was done with her transformation. Light had known, he could tell. She was less human and more forgetful and hardly seemed to care about him at all anymore. The two that came to collect here were quite a pair. One was skeletal, one was muscular, both had no skin and wings made of sinew. They were upon them in seconds and Light barely had time to cry out before Takada was taken and the rest of them were blocked. The two Shinigami exchanged a confused look and Light could feel them ignoring him. It annoyed him beyond all else._

_“What are they doing all the way out here?” the skeletal one asked._

_“Beats me. Just get the one that’s finished and return the rest,” the muscular one replied._

_“No, wait!” Mikami cried out._

_“Shut-up, you idiot,” Light hissed through clenched teeth._

_The two turned red eyes on all of them and the skeletal one studied Light and Misa carefully._

_“They ain’t transforming,” he muttered._

_The muscular one let out what sounded like a long string of expletives._

_“Why aren’t you eating?” the skeletal one asked._

_“We don’t like your gross food! And Misa has to keep her girlish figure!” Misa spat at them, sticking out her tongue._

_A cold, desperate sweat was prickling on Light’s skin. He felt as if he were cornered again._

_“No excuse. Here.” The muscular one produced an apple from his pouch. It looked like what an apple should be in a perfect world. The smell of it made Light dizzy. Misa’s eyes widened and her stomach growled._

_“See? It’s not so bad,” the muscular one said._

_Misa had already snatched it from him and was taking a giant bite. Light found that he was not as upset as he would have thought. He never cared much for Misa, truth be told, and he could find L without her. He could find L without any of them._

_“Now you,” the muscular one said. He offered Light the apple._

_Light threw it as far as he could and ran away from them. He could hear their obnoxious laughter from behind. He turned back to see Takada, fully gone now, laughing with them and they threw off Misa and Mikami as if they were fleas. Misa’s body made a sickening thud when she hit the ground and Light would have been vaguely worried if they weren’t already dead._

_The two Shinigami caught up with him in no time. The muscular one pinned him while the skeletal one tried to pry open his jaws. For his part, he struggled and his and clamped his jaw shut, biting back screams of fury and insults._

_The skeletal one had almost succeeded when a pale foot came from nowhere to knock him away. The muscular one soon followed and Light found himself face to face with L._

_Time stopped or maybe finally started. L pulled him into his feet and into and embrace and then kicked him in the face._

_As Light fell he bit back a laugh. He would allow L this. He had killed him after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading/kudosing/commenting! This chapter is short, but next chapter will be longer and our two favorite genius idiots will finally be together for real this time. Also, I realized my interlude numbering was off, so I fixed it.


	8. Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Switching up some POV stuff. L is normal, Light is italicized. Let me know if it gets confusing.

The pure white space changed to a dull grey. The airy, placeless quality was replaced by a bitter desert of stinging, grey sand without day or night. And still there was no sign of life or Light. And still he walked. His bare feet stung and his throat ripped with thirst. A part of him knew it was some sort of fair trade, like in the old stories he used to read. To save one’s true love, there needed to be sacrifice. Of course, true love seemed entirely wrong and entirely too simple for whatever Light was to him.

Eventually he saw them. The figures huddled on a twisted, aborted road. Two held a third who struggled madly. L would know the struggling figure anywhere. Relief and fury filled him. He was on the creatures in seconds, unsure of how he had managed to move so quickly. The skeletal figure was grotesque and his foot made a dull, clean thud and he moved him away. The muscular one was softer than he’d anticipated. His flesh reminded him of a rotten piece of fruit.  

He acted on impulse, pulling Light up and holding him to his chest. Light’s eyes were wide with shock. He was older, but not much older, than when he’d last seen him. There was madness in his eyes and his cheeks were hollow. He looked terrible, as if he were starved. His cheekbones were so sharp, L was surprised they didn’t cut his own cheek as he held the other man.

When his mind caught up with the rest of him, he pushed himself away from Light and kicked him, as hard as he could. Light fell to the ground, a flicker of mirth crossing his still beautiful face. He spat blood.

“Hi, L,” he said. His voice was a dry croak in his throat.

_Blood bloomed in his mouth, sweet and metallic. It was the first liquid to touch his throat in some great period of time. He wondered if it would be wise to swallow it before spitting it. He had come too far to be undone by his nemesis and a pair of halfwit Shinigami._

_“Hi, L,” he said as if they were back home. As if they were in the task force headquarters and he was still that weak, memoryless thing. As if he were still a boy._

_L was fury incarnate. He still offered Light one thin, pale hand and pulled him up. Light had the urge to kiss him sharply until they both bled. He settled for a brush of his hand on L’s cheek. He was still L, even after death and whatever this was. His heart felt like breaking. It had been so long._

_“Light,” L replied._

_“HEY!” one of the Shinigami cried. Light couldn’t be bothered to see which. L was here. Everyone else could go away._

_“You can’t-“_

_“Can’t what?” Light said with the sort of authority born in godhood. The creature stopped._

_“He’s not allowed here.”_

_“I was told I was free to go where I would once I left my own after life,” L said. His eyes were glued on Light’s. It seemed ridiculous that the horrible creatures though that they could hold either of their attention for any span of time at all._

_“Well, we, um…”_

_“This has never happened before.”_

_Light spared them a glance. The skeletal one and the muscular one were looking at them like they were impossible creatures. He supposed they were in a way. He turned back to L as he took Light’s sleeve between his finger and thumb, a gesture so heartbreakingly familiar Light thought he might shatter into a thousand pieces._

_“Hm, well, it appears to happening now. Come along, Light-kun.”_

_Light shrugged at them over his shoulder and let L lead him away. They didn’t get far before the skeletal one was in front of them, eyes blazing with fury. Light smirked as L quelled ever so slightly. No one but him would ever have noticed it, no one else ever could._

He hated that he couldn’t stop looking at Light. He hated the Shinigami for attempting to take up his attention. He hated the skeletal one for blocking them. He had flinched, just a bit. Light had seen. He could feel his smirk directed at the back of his neck and he hated that too.

“Please step aside,” L said. He was nothing but cold, unflinching power.

“No. We can’t…look. We let him go, we get in trouble and The King probably turns us to dust or something and I don’t want to be turned into dust. So can you just…go away?”

“We’re going. You can turn to dust,” Light said.

His tone made L want to leave him then and there, just so he could laugh at his fury and uselessness. But he had come this far and did not like losing.

“Can we petition your king?” L asked.

“What?” Light hissed.

“I don’t…can he?” the skeletal one asked.

The muscular one shrugged.

“We will wait here until you find out. Good day,” L said, sitting in the sand.

He regretted it immediately. It was like sitting on ground glass. He hadn’t let go of Light’s sleeve, which forced the other to stumble down next to him. Light was glaring at him. It was exhilarating.

“O-Okay,” the skeletal one said.

“Um, what about your friends?” the muscular one asked.

“They aren’t my friends. Do whatever you want with them,” Light said.

L hadn’t noticed the others. Light outshone them all. But he could see two monsters bending over a figure with blonde hair and big eyes. So Misa was dead too.

The Shinigami looked relieved at Light’s pronouncement.  The muscular one waved at them as the skeletal one snatched up the smaller monster and Misa in his arms to take them to parts unknown the second monster followed as if nothing had happened.

Misa’s cries for Light flew towards them on the wind. Light flinched with annoyance at each one.

“What the hell? We could have been out of here and you-” Light started once Misa’s cries had faded.

“I have an idea,” L said.

“Oh. Great. What?” Light said. It was clear he did not think it was great.

“We get their king to agree to having us go free and we find our own place. Where I ended up was boring and here is awful.”

Light thought for a moment before nodding. There was a gleam in his eyes. L could almost hear his brain turning. He would like that plan. Light wanted to be special. This way, he was special. Besides which, L was almost positive there was no one else like the two of them in the whole of existence. They deserved something different. 

“Is there a place to get out of the sand?” L asked. It was decidedly unpleasant being pelted with the small, grating bits of sand.

“I can create one. Hold on. Don’t bother me,” Light said.

L sat back at Light closed his eyes, brow creasing in concentration.

“You’re going to get wrinkles, Light-kun,” he muttered quietly to himself as the house sprung up around them.

_He couldn’t help but grin at L’s face when he was done. His wide eyes were wider and his thumb was resting on his bottom lip. The house was really just a room, but a nice room. The sort of studio apartment he would have chosen for himself if he had ever had to stoop so low._

_“I see. Thoughts take form here,” L said. He closed his eyes. A sundae appeared in front of him._

_Light knocked it out of his hands before he could do anything. Fear choked him and it must have shown on his face. L was stepping away from the offending sweet as if it would poison him._

_“I must ask why Light did that,” he said._

_“The food here isn’t safe. It turns you into a Shinigami,” Light said. He was already rummaging through a closet for cleaning supplies to mop up the mess._

_“Let me,” L said, reaching for the paper towels._

_Light let out a snort of derision._

_“You haven’t cleaned up after yourself once. I’ll do it.”_

_L put his hand back as if Light had hit him. It was pathetic and Light felt frustration rising in his throat._

_“You aren’t a Shinigami,” L said. It was not a question._

_“No. I don’t eat. Or drink,” Light said, applying himself to the mess. This was not how he imagined their reunion going._

_“That is why Light is so thin. You are thinner than me now, I think.”_

_“I’m dead. It hardly matters.”_

_“Hm.”_

_L watched him clean with his thumb on his lips. Light felt awkward and self-conscious about it, even though L’s eyes were far, far away._

_“You killed me,” L said when Light was done._

_“Yes. One of your fucking successors killed me, so I guess we’re even,” Light said._

_“No. Not even close. I am glad, though, that Near won. It’s a victory for me.”_

_Light flinched. L smirked. They were horrible creatures in the end._

_“I’m sorry,” Light said. One day, he thought he might choke on his fake earnestness._

_“Liar,” L said. He was closing in on him like some sort of wild animal circling its prey._

_“I’m sorry it was you who died, I guess. We could have ruled together,” Light said. His voice had gone soft._

_L was close to him now. His arm was encircling his waist. The whole thing felt like a dance he had done a million times before. When he closed his eyes, he saw the roof and the rain._

_“Liar.”_

_He could feel L’s breath on his face. His eyes were large and calculating and Light had never realized just how many shades their dark, almost black could be._

_“It was no fun without you,” Light said. It felt like a confession. He thought it was the first time he had meant exactly what he said in years._

_L smiled and kissed him. It was not soft and gentle. There was no angelic music only fireworks. He kissed back just as aggressively. It felt like a fight because everything between them did. L’s thin fingers were tearing at his shirt and his hands were running across his pale, smooth back, under the ubiquitous white shirt L always wore. Light wondered why they hadn’t done this all the time when they were alive._

Light was warm in his arms. He didn’t think he had forgiven him and he wasn’t sure that a part of him still didn’t hate him, but this was perfect. He thought of the other Light, the puppet he had left behind. It had been sweet and acquiescing. His Light wasn’t.

The fact that he was the first to make the other groan left a sharp smile on his lips even as Light began to bit his neck harder than was strictly necessary. One point for him.

Light won a point by forcing L out of his shirt before his own had been removed. They had had to stop kissing briefly and it was agony. Light’s own shirt followed suit soon enough. His chest was hallows. There were several marks scattered across it, like old scars. When he touched them, Light gasped in shock.

“You were shot. By who?” L asked.

“No one,” Light said from the crook of his neck.

“Who, Light?”

Light stilled. His breath was hot on L’s neck. One hand had tangled in his hair and one was just under his waistband.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t. That would be rude.”

“Matsuda,” Light muttered.

L laughed. Light hit him. They went back to kissing.

L had never wanted anything more in his life. When Light made him make an truly undignified noise, thus scoring another point, he thought he would die. Again.

Pants were removed next. L’s point this time.

 “I want-” he said. His voice was nothing but air.

“God, fuck, yes,” Light said.

_When they were done, they lay tangled and sweaty. L was curled in his arms and Light had the urge to cry until there was nothing left of him, though he didn’t know why._

_“I win,” L muttered._

_“Fuck you,” Light said._

_If they never left again, Light would think them in heaven._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos and stuff! You guys are all my favorites.
> 
> Also sorry its a little late this week. My family was in town this weekend and I was busy driving them to hell and back and eating entirely too much yummy food. But the chapter is longer than usual (I think its the longest one yet) so that's nice. I also am pretty pleased with how it finally came out.


	9. King

_He woke first. That in and of itself was rare as rare can be. L slept surprisingly still next to him. He hadn’t moved from the position he’d collapsed in last night, when they had finally succumbed to exhaustion. It had been good in a way he never could have dreamed of, but he knew it couldn’t last. It never did with them. Neither of them was happy with peace. They were above that._

_Light left the bed, bathed, and returned. L was stirring slightly, his mop of messy, dark hair burrowing deeper into the covers. It was endearing and far too personal for Light to deal with at that particular moment. Back before, when he was without his memories and a weak, pathetic creature, when they were at headquarters, he had never woken before L. He didn’t know if the man had slept the entire time they were chained. He had woken a few times to find L curled away from him, but if he called him, he always answered._

_In a decisive moment, or maybe a moment where he didn’t want to acknowledge the softening of his own heart, he yanked the covers off. L stared at him with his owlish eyes. It was comical and beautiful and Light thought that he had never actually loved another living thing before that moment._

_He let out a peel of laughter._

Light’s laughter was unhinged. He supposed that was how he laughed now. It was a shame.

“Good morning, Light,” L said. The -kun seemed unneeded now, after last night.

“You sleep like the dead,” Light said. There was a flicker of amusement across his face. L felt it entirely too early for gallows humor.

“Yes, well,” he sighed, running a long, spindly hand through his hair.

He let Light cup his face and kiss him. If anything, he welcomed it, but he stopped himself before they got carried away. Again.

“I think we need to talk,” he said.

Light shook his head. He oozed charm. Even as a wasted, thin, creature, bruised and battered by everything that had happened before and after his death, since L had left him, he was charming. Light reached for him again, L evaded. They had always done this dance. It was hardwired into his skin and bones.

“You killed me. I will never forgive you for that,” L said. There was a distinct lack of venom in his voice.

“I said I was sorry,” Light said with a shrug. He had crossed his legs. He looked so much like the arrogant, young Light that L had first encountered it hurt.

“You lied. You admitted that, Light.”

“Fine. I’m not sorry. But I don’t think I care if you forgive me. You aren’t perfect, either. Your methods are unethical and I don’t believe for a minute you cared about any of the people you saved. You treat people like tools and you barely care about justice.”

“I-”

“What? You are justice? Well, were? No. I was. I did something about the world. You just watched it from your tower. You love the game, L. You don’t care about anything else.”

L didn’t speak. He couldn’t look at Light. He wasn’t about to let his killer lecture him on what a terrible person he had been. Even if there was some truth in what Light had said. Even if Light did seem to know him better than anyone ever had.

“L?” Light asked. His voice was soft, almost kind. He caught his chin and forced his amber eyes to meet his black ones.

L shrugged him off. He would have fought Light if he didn’t think it would lead to something else.

“You weren’t justice. You were a sociopath with a god complex. That’s it,” he said.

_Light snarled before he could stop himself. L’s usually low, melodious voice was harsh and hard and he wanted to kick or kill or kiss him. One of those three. He wasn’t sorry and he didn’t care that L would never forgive him. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing to forgive. They were both dead and they were together. It was fine._

_“What? You don’t want to talk now?” Light asked. He reached for L again._

_“No. I’m angry with you,” L said, as if they were a married couple._

_He supposed they might as well have been._

_“Get over it. We’re stuck together. Might as well try to make this as pleasant as we can.”_

_L let out a low chuckle. He didn’t say anything else.  He didn’t look at Light._

_Light glared at him, which got no response._

_They spent the whole day in silence. Light wanted to scream in frustration, but he wouldn’t lose. He was better than L. He knew that. He had won, after all. But it was so boring he wanted to tear his skin off. He considered trying just to get a response from L._

_They slept curled away from each other. He woke with L’s thin arm thrown around his waist. L himself was facing him. He was so still he looked dead. He was dead, and that was Light’s fault. But he had made his peace with it almost as soon as it had happened. He felt something in him crack. He hated L in that moment. Or loved. One of the two._

_“L?” he asked._

_L stirred and opened his large eyes._

_“Talk to me.” Light said._

_L was silent._

_“Please. I can’t…I’m so bored. And I was just telling the truth. You can’t be mad at me for that.”_

_L was silent. His eyes were boring into Light. It was unpleasant, as if he were naked in front of everyone he’d ever met._

_Tears rose unbidden to his eyes. He blinked and swallowed. It was too much._

_“God, shit, I…just…I want…I missed…please.”_

_“What?” L asked. His voice was like a lifeline_

_“I missed you so much.”_

_He broke then._

Light was crying loudly and messily against his chest. He was holding him and muttering kind, soothing nonsense at him. It was cruel, he thought, to force him to this point, but Light was right. He could be cruel.

Light kissed him with a face wet with tears. He tasted like salt. L wondered what those five years without him had been like, to turn Light into this desperate, mad creature. He tightened his grip and let things take their course.

The next day they did not speak of their history. They played chess. Light told him bits and pieces about life without him, he told him bits and pieces of a past marked with genius and tragedy.

The next day, they barely spoke. They lay in bed and read, always touching, as if they were afraid of being torn apart.

The next day, they fought over nothing. They collapsed into each other, sweating and bloody and it felt like an evitability.

The next day, the thing came for him.

They had been in bed, curled into each other, talking softly about stupid things. The thing appeared at the foot of their bed, looking like Rem, the one who had killed him. Light screamed and pushed himself away. L just stared at the thing placidly and with no small amount of satisfaction. It was not often Light let anyone know he had been taken by surprise.

“Come. We have reached an agreement,” the thing said.

“A moment. I must dress,” L said.

“How-what-?” Light managed to stutter out. It was more endearing than anything he had seen before. If the thing had not been watching him, he would have kissed him.

“This is one of the beings who created my afterlife. It wishes me to go with it,” L said.

Light relaxed immediately. It was then L noticed the tears on his cheeks.

“Light?” L asked.

“S-sorry. He, it, um, it looked like my father,” Light said.

* * *

When L left him, Light was only half dressed. He kissed him lightly, out of view of the thing. He would tell Light what it said that the true form of what was most definitely some sort of god looked like his father to him when he returned.

“Come back,” was all Light said.

“I will. I won’t leave you again,” L promised.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” the thing said.

L saw Light’s scared face before the thing touched him and he was taken immediately to a great hall with a great throne and a great, terrible creature in a rusted crown.

“This is the one,” the thing said, going to sit beside the throne.

“Hm. Not very impressive, is it?” the figure on the throne said.

“None of them are.”

“No matter. Hello, L Lawliet. I am the king of the Shinigami,” the King said, addressing him in a booming voice.

“Hello,” L said, scratching the back of his leg with his opposite foot. This was not the first king he had met.

“Do you know why you are here?”

“Something to do with Light leaving.”

“Yes. We have reached a decision. It is rare to get a case like yours. Normally, those who use the Deathnote do not have soulmates so devoted as to find them.”

“Usually those under my care do not see through my illusions,” the thing said. It was the first time it sounded anything other than placid.

“Light Yagami was the most prolific of those to have used the Deathnote. As such, he would make a fine Shinigami. Unfortunately, he has not eaten our food or drunk our water, which means he has not become one of us yet. You cannot return to your afterlife-”

“I have no wish to,” L said simply. The thing shot the King an annoyed look.

“But we are willing to compromise. If Light can follow our rules, not eat, not drink anything here, and if he can show remorse, true and honest remorse, for at least one death he caused, you will be free. The two of you may find your place in between our world and the world of your original afterlife.”

The silence after the King’s pronouncement was deafening.

“If I do not accept?” L asked.

“You leave and we force feed Light,” the King said as if it were nothing to him.

“Fine. I accept. Is there a time limit?” L asked.

“Five days,” the thing said.

“And after that?” L asked.

“You both leave or Light stays, becomes a Shinigami, and you go back,” the King said.

L nodded. He didn’t let the two beings see him fear. Five days was not enough time to spend with Light. He doubted he could make him feel remorse. For the first time in a very long time, he felt like crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the reads and kudos!!!!
> 
> Next week I may take a short hiatus as it is the end of the semester and I have so very much to do. If I do take a break, I promise I will be back! It drives me insane to leave things unfinished and I'm about 2/3 of the way through this one.


	10. Book

_L hadn’t been gone long. He had to remind himself of that again and again. Time didn’t work quite like it should in Mu. Things felt long and stretched or shorter than was even mildly believable._

_It didn’t help, the reminding._

_He read, but didn’t absorb anything. He tried to play chess with himself, but it didn’t distract him. He gave up and let himself be consumed by thoughts of being alone forever and dying a dried out, wasted skeleton in this twilight place. Then he remembered he was already dead. The entire time, L floated through his head, each gesture and every inch of him burned against his brain. He spent hours bringing each bit of him into perfect detail in his mind, half convinced if he did it right, L would appear. Iit did not help._

_Years ago, when he had been younger, before the Deathnote, before L, before he’d felt truly alive, his sister had gotten mad at him. It was something to do with him not playing with her, with him just studying and practicing tennis all day._

_“You’re obsessive!” she’d screeched in her little voice._

_He had been surprised she knew the word and had tried to reason with her. That he was just trying to live up to his potential, something he’d heard grown-ups say about the dumber, lesser, undisciplined children. She hadn’t listened. She’d run into her room in tears. His mother made them apologize to each other over sweets later._

_He had never liked sweets._

_His sister had been right, though. He was obsessive. He missed her suddenly, like a small, dull ache. The last time he’d seen her, her eyes had been empty and dull. His mother said that she had nightmares every night. It was a reminder that he’d been right about the Death Note and the world and everything._

_The thought soothed his mind. He began to plot his next argument with L. He’d make him understand, even agree. Then they could move on to whatever was next._

_L came back. Of course he did. They were stuck together and they were both oddly fine with it. But then again, L had been the only person who had really mattered._

_Light didn’t let his relief show. He looked up from the bed, where he had stretched out to read some book L had conjured into being. L looked terrible. There was a tightness around his eyes and he looked even paler than usual, if that was possible._

_“Hello. How was it?” Light asked. There was a tone of mockery in his voice and L winced at._

_“I met the King. He has a proposition for us,” L said. He sat next to L. It took everything Light had not to lean into him like a cat._

_“Oh?”_

_“If you don’t feel remorse for at least one victim, I leave, you stay and become a Shinigami.”_

_Light’s heart leapt then settled._

_“Fine. I’m sure I can find it in my heart somewhere.”_

_He knew he couldn’t, but he was a practiced and skilled liar. He had fooled everyone but L for years and whatever this king was, it was not match for L. Nothing was. Besides him, of course, but that was another matter entirely._

_Next to him L sighed and pressed a soft kiss to his head. He felt as if he had been paralyzed. This wasn’t them. They didn’t show affection without drawing literal or metaphorical blood. There was a stirring of something in his chest that he didn’t want to examine too closely._

L sighed and kissed Light on the top of his head. The other froze. It was too tender for them. L agreed. He moved across the room quickly. Light wasn’t taking it seriously.

“You can’t bluff your way out of this, Light,” he said.

“I didn’t say I was going to.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not,” Light said through clenched teeth.

“You have five days. After that, we’ll never see each other again.”

It was dramatic, but he could be dramatic. Light scoffed and went back to his book. He, quite frankly, should have expected that. He wondered how he would get on without him. Now that he had seen the real thing, the puppet back in his old afterlife seemed like a cheap imitation.

L closed his eyes, set aside whatever emotions he held for Light, and observed him through clinical eyes, like before he had lost his memories, when he was nothing but a brilliant and beautiful case.

“I don’t think you can feel remorse,” L said.

Light didn’t answer, but he did turn the page of his book with more force than was strictly necessary.

“I think-”

“What? That I’m a monster?” Light spat at him.

“Yes,” L said. “But I think I am too.”

_Light glared at him. There was fire and claws in his chest and L seemed like he felt nothing. Like he was just soggy cardboard. He wanted to have a yelling, screaming fight with him. He closed the book with a snap. L didn’t jump. He didn’t do anything. He just looked at him._

_Light hated this. He didn’t like being the one not in control. The last few days of his life, he had felt it slipping, but he was so close to his godhood, it hardly mattered. He stood in a sharp, sudden move and found himself in front of L almost without realizing it. He relaxed and put a hand to L’s cheek. A charming smile flitted across his face like a knife._

_“Light,” L said quietly with just a hint of exasperation._

_“If we’re monsters, let’s make the most of these five days. Let’s make up for all the time we lost and are about to lose,” Light said, leaning in for a kiss. L turned away so it landed on his cheek. Light had expected as much._

_Light grabbed at him, but he slipped out. He pulled something from his pocket._

_“Here,” L said._

_A small dark book sat in his palm. Light thought he could hear choirs of angels singing, but he was smart enough to know it was all in his head. He may have made an undignified sound when he grabbed it. For a brief moment, he felt whole again. If whatever powers there were had decided that he and L were soulmates, whatever that meant, they must have been mistaken. This was all he needed. Opening it was like waking up from a very, very long dream. His own perfect hand writing was scribbled across the pages. He flipped through until he got to the end and then went back and read more slowly._

_The entire time, L’s dark eyes bore into him. The man really was half owl._

_“Light. That’s enough,” L said._

_Light shook his head. It would never be enough._

_“Light.”_

_A stronger than it should have been hand grasped the book and tore it from him. Light let out a cry of a gasp of pain that he was almost positive he felt._

L wondered why he didn’t just leave Light alone and go back to his afterlife. The Light there was imperfect, but he was so much less work. Light, his Light, the only one he knew was worth having, looked like a feral creature then. His hair was disheveled and his eyes stood out, blood red, in the wasted hallow of his face. The thing in his hand was a perfect copy, a gift of the King to help him.

“It’s not real. Get a hold of yourself,” he said.

Light sat back, his perfect mask back on. It was hard to watch. L sat opposite him. He had to remind himself again and again that Light was a case. Nothing more. He’d let the more part happen when they were safe.

“We are going to go through this and find one person you regret killing. Then we are going to go back to the King and we are going to go home. If you can’t manage it, I will leave you here and go back. It isn’t worth my time,” L said, his voice clinical.

“Fine,” Light said. There was a smirk but it was in self-defense. L had seen how desperate he’d been when he’d come back. As if abandoning Light would ever be that easy.

“Very well. Kurou Otoharada,” L began.

“He was going to kill children,” Light said. There was a boredom in his voice L wanted to strangle.

They continued. Each name was justified. Each name belonged to some criminal who Light wanted dead or to someone who had stood in his way. The name Naomi Misora brought a pang of sadness to L’s chest. He had respected her. Light had killed her for being clever.

“Can we take a break. I’m bored,” Light said after hours of read and talking and arguing.

“And do what?” L asked. He wouldn’t admit that he was tired of it too. That maybe Light was right and they should just make the best of the time they had together.

“Anything else,” Light said. He tilted his head back. Sometimes he looked like the bored teenager he must have been before he found the Death Note.

“We don’t have time. Please focus, Light-kun,” L said.

They finished the first one before the end of the second day. The second and third took the entirety of the second day. There were more justifications and a very nasty argument when L stumbled across Wammy’s name and then his own.

“You were ruining everything!” Light snapped at him. He was pacing, he was a dangerous animal in a small cage, there were tears in his eyes.

“I was saving-” L started. He was still seated, his hands clenching his jeans so hard he was surprised he hadn’t ripped through the fabric.

“What? The world? It was better after you died.”

“Was it?”

Light paused. He shook his head and sat. He looked old and grey and tired and L was torn between killing him and wrapping his arms around him. It would be over soon. They would be free. He just wished something could be easy for them.

“Who’s next?”

“Do you regret-”

“Don’t make me say it again. Who’s next?”

L sighed and kept reading. They would have eternity to have that argument. He doubted that they would ever solve it.

When they were finished, Light slept. He was curled against him in the bed as if any sort of physical distance was incredibly distasteful. When all was said and done, there had been only two names that had given Light pause. Naomi was a necessity, as was Raye and the rest of the FBI. He had hoped Mello would trigger something, but then he had heard the story of Sayu’s kidnapping and Light’s father’s death and he wasn’t stupid enough to push the issue. Wammy was L’s only true ally, according to Light at least, and Aiber and Wedy were his pawns. In the end, only his name and Takada’s had given Light any pause.

He tightened his grip around the man next to him and began to think. Emotions had never been his strong suit, but to save Light, he would figure something out. He had only lost one case in his career and it had caused his death. Since he had nothing else to lose, there was no reason he should fail a second time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its late! End of the semester took way more out of me than I thought....
> 
> Thanks again for all the kudos and reviews and reads! I love each and every one with all my heart.


	11. Regret

Day three didn't so much dawn as begin. Light stirred next to him, an innocent before he truly awoke and his true nature took hold. L hadn't slept. He had spent the night conceiving a plan to save Light. There was a way, he had regret, he was just too proud. L was no so naive to think he'd completely renounce Kira. He wasn't even so naive to think he'd regret killing him entirely for his own sake. But he'd been bored without him. L was fairly certain that was as close as Light could get to love. And Takada. There had been the slightest pause when he'd read her name. It was enough for him to hook his fingers into and worry into something more.

"Is it morning?" Light asked, burrowing into his side, suddenly awake, suddenly there.

"As much as it can be," L replied, attentively running a hand through his hair.

"You wasted two of our days. That was stupid," Light said into his ribcage.

"I see that now."

Light lifted his head with a knife of a smile and kissed him. It felt like victory and pain. It felt like his death.

They spent the day in bed. Light never stopped holding him. It was sign enough that he was scared. It was a thin ray of hope that he, somewhere in that brilliant, dangerous, unstable mind of his, felt regret.

When Light finally slept, he got to work. Exhaustion dragged at him, but he had stayed up for a week straight once, when he was sixteen. He'd been hallucinating by the end but he'd gotten the job done. This was nothing.

He shut his eyes and concentrated, pulling exactly what he needed from thin air.

_Light woke with a start. The day before had been good and, he was willing to admit, bittersweet. But if he only had three days left, he wanted to spent each one wrapped up in L. He was like a drug, or maybe more like L's sweets, dangerous and entirely unworthy of so much reverence but needed beyond all else._

_The first thing he realized upon waking was that he was sitting up. The second was that he was dressed. The third was that he was bound. The fourth was L was sitting across from him, clinical and calculating. It set his soul on edge._

_"Misa was right. You're a pervert," Light said, calling up his old, familiar nonchalance and smirk._

_"We have two days left. Yesterday was a break, I shouldn't have let it go on so long-"_

_Light shifted and gave L a look worthy of a siren. He let a small victory flicker through him as L completely lost his train of thought for a full second._

_"Don't. We don't have time. I'm going to save you. Perhaps I should have saved you long ago, before, during the case," L said._

_"I'd still be here. And I will find it in my heart to feel remorse or whatever. Let me go," Light said._

_"No. You're too distracting when you're free. Tell me about my death," L said._

_"You were there."_

_"If you won't tell me, I'll have no choice but to feed you something. You look quite hungry Light-kun."_

_L held an apple in his hand. Light bit back his panic. Now that he was not so laser focused on L, he could see what sat next to him. Food was piled to his knees. It made Light's stomach ache and his mouth water. He looked away._

_"Well?" L said. He had turned back into the machine Light had first met._

_"You were too close to figuring out the truth. Rem knew it would kill Misa, so she killed you and Watari. You both had heart attacks. They, um, they tried to revive you. For a long time. It didn't work. You were, you are, dead. That's it," Light said._

_He didn't like talking about it. L was brilliant and perfect and would have been his in life if he hadn't been so stubbornly wrong headed. His death was a waste, but a necessary one._

_"Do you regre-"_

_"No."_

_L stared at him as if it hadn't just admitted he didn't regret killing him. As if he were just another case. It was like before they were chained. Light was his favorite toy then too._

_"And after?"_

_"I already told you everything."_

_"How did you feel? Without me?"_

Light stared at him with honeyed eyes. There were cracks in his facade of annoyance already. He wouldn't give in easily, he hated being wrong, but.

"Bored." Light said.

L nodded. He knew that meant lonely as well.

"Did you miss me?"

"L, that doesn't-"

L began to cut the apple. Light's eyes went wide.

"You know the answer. You're clever. You can figure it out," Light said. There was a thin note of panic in his voice.

"I want to hear you say it. I can give you some time, Light-kun. Not much, though, so be quick about it."

It was fun to watch him think. Maybe if he pulled this off he'd ask for the ability to read Light's mind as well. He felt it was his last great mystery. Finally, Light looked at him. His eyes were wide and scared.

"Yes. Every fucking day. Constantly. Like an ache. Misa was less than you in every way and I had to act like she was the love of my life. Takada was better but still nothing and I had to pretend to have been pining after her for years. I only ever thought of you when I was with them. Even though we'd just kissed once and you tried to stop me and you imprisoned me and had my father pretend to kill me, which I had nightmares about for years by the way, and were the most annoying person I'd ever met. So yes. I missed you. It was constant, it was painful, I don't regret it. I needed to fix the world-"

"You needed to be a god," L said quietly.

Light's eyes flashed red at him. His outburst had been taxing on him. L thought he might be inching close to regret and then they could finally move on.

"I was a god," Light said. His face changed. A smile L had only seen as he lay dying split it. This was Light as he truly was. It was great and terrible.

"No. You were a mass murderer. You will go down in history books, but for your crimes. Nothing else."

"And you?"

"A footnote compared to you, I'm sure," L replied. From Light's glare it was clear he didn't miss the sarcasm.

"You had to die, L. I'm sorry it was you, I'm sorry we didn't get more time, but it had to be done. You were the only one who could stop me and I had a world to save," Light said after a pause. The earnestness in his voice, for once, rang true.

"Near stopped you."

"Near is, quite literally, a pale imitation of you. He got lucky."

L sighed. He had crushed the apple in his hand at some point. His head ached, which seemed unfair.

"We will take a break. Chess?"

Light nodded. They played in silence, save for Light telling him where to move the pieces.

They spent the rest of the day rehashing the initial argument with no new revelations or progress and playing chess. By the time it was done, L could barely look at him and Light seemed fragile and cracked.

"The last day is starting soon. Would you like to rest?" L asked. It was a kindness.

"There's no point. It would just be a waste of time. But I guess the whole thing is a waste of time, isn't it?" Light said. His voice dripped with venom.

L didn't answer. Light was becoming a petulant child. Well, he had always been a petulant child, but it was becoming far more obvious. He wished they could eat.

"It isn't a waste of time. I do agree that we should keep going if you feel up to it. Tell me about Takada's death," L said.

_Light let out a harsh laugh. If he didn't regret L, he certainly didn't regret Takada. He hated L for doing this. They should be enjoying each other. They should be saying goodbye in a way that they'd both remember for all eternity, if he'd still remember. He'd made his peace about the while shinigami thing. He'd become chief among them and he'd have a whole army to make the world righteous. It wasn't so bad as far as fates goes. L was just clinging to him, as if his world would be destroyed without Light. Quite frankly, the feeling was a bit mutual, but he had decided to ignore it. He had lived without L for the vast majority of his life. His death shouldn't be any different._

_"Light?" L asked. His eyes were black mirrors._

_"She killed herself."_

_"You made her, though."_

_Light shrugged. He had. It was a relief to be honest. Some of the game was gone, of course. But he felt better, being able to finally talk to L about everything. It was like when he'd been memoryless, except he knew the truth now._

_"Why?"_

_"I was done with her."_

_It sounded harsher than he'd meant. L turned away and his heart ached. Maybe he had gone too far. Maybe this whole thing would make their separation easier._

_"And you don't regret it?"_

_"No," Light said before he could consider. There was something dark and dangerous in that question._

_"You paused."_

_"So?"_

_"Why?"_

_Light didn't answer. He had tired of her. He didn't need another person who could compromise his identity before he was done remaking his world. He..._

_He hadn't thought it through._

_He still didn't feel sorry._

_"She was a liability. I'm not sorry."_

_L closed his eyes for a moment. The dark circles were more pronounced than ever in his increasingly giant face. He looked like a skeletal crow. Light wanted to remember him like this forever. A stab of regret, not for the deaths, never for his work, tore through him. It was completely unfair._

_"Maybe you should eat something," Light said._

_L have him a confused look. It was a triumph to catch him off guard._

_"We could still be together. We could turn this place into something magnificent. We could fix the world," Light said. He could feel the fire in his eyes._

_"No. I'm going to save you."_

_They were both stripped bare in a way that was painful but not uncomfortable. He wanted to touch him. He wanted to never let him go._

_"You can't. I don't want it, I don't need it. Let me go."_

_It was too loaded a statement. L shook his head. His mask snapped into place. Light missed his true face._

_"Don't be an idiot."_

_"L."_

_It was a warning. It was not heeded._

_"I am, we are, by far the most intelligent people of an age. We will figure this out. We will stay together. Tell me you feel regret."_

_"It wouldn't be the truth. And you said I couldn't lie."_

_L hit the table. An orange rolled onto the ground with a dull thud. Light smiled. He liked this version of L quite a bit._

_"Eat something. Then we'll stay together."_

_"Unacceptable. I will not become a monster."_

_"You said you were one."_

_"It was a metaphor."_

_"It wouldn't be so bad. The shinigami are dumb. We could rule together easily. We could make it interesting and you could solve cases for all of eternity. I think...I think it wouldn't be so bad."_

_L didn't speak. He brushed a hand across Light's cheek and left. Light screamed after him. It was too soon. He wasn't ready._

L stood outside in the biting sand. He was so tired. Light's scream echoed around him. He felt it wrapping around his neck. He would go back. He just needed to breathe. He just needed to be human for a moment.

He turned back. They had half a day. He was wasting time. He didn't want to exist without Light more than he needed to. He shut his eyes, concentrated, and the food was gone and Light was free. It took Light approximately eight seconds to reach him. He looked like a hunted animal. L wondered if he had looked like this at the end.

"You-"

"Let's go inside. It's unpleasant out here," L said.

"Do you give up?"

"Never. I just want a break."

They went inside. They lay on the bed and talked. L told Light about the fake Light. Light laughed and glowed with pride at being better than what was supposed to be his perfect self. L questioned him about Takada and Kira and regrets. Light didn't budge. But there were cracks. L hoped it would be enough.

They ended curled into each other, quiet, unable to speak. Nothing seemed big enough or correct enough or final enough.

"I'm sorry," Light finally said. L's heart leapt.

"No. Not about that. About not feeling regret."

L didn't answer. He just held him closer. Maybe if he held him tight enough, they wouldn't be able to take Light from him.

_When the knock came, he was ready. L wasn't but he would never be. He untangled himself. L followed him, grasping his sleeve like a lost child._

_The thing that looked like his father and a shinigami that was clearly a king stood in the doorway._

_"Well?" the King asked._

_Light looked at L. It was worth a shot, to stay with him._

_"I regret his death. He...he was, he is, the only person who understands me. The world would have been better if he were still in it. I would have been better if he were in it. Please, please forgive me."_

_It was masterful. Tears stung his eyes, he curled in on himself. He stared at the ground. He grasped L's hand on his sleeve. He was truly pathetic. It was a mask he'd used before._

_"Liar," the thing sighed._

_"No, I-"_

_"Well, I suppose we win. Turn him."_

_"No!"_

_It was a banshee wail. It came from two throats. L's hand was a vice he felt as if he couldn't stand. In an instant, L flipped them. He stood at his full height for once. There was barely a centimeter between their heights. Light couldn't believe he didn't realize that before. He blocked Light entirely._

_"This really is stupid. You have a perfectly good copy waiting for you," the thing said._

_L and Light laughed. It was desperate and choked and so perfectly them._

_"Pull them apart," the King said._

_There must have been more shinigami. Strong hands yanked them apart. Light didn't see who was holding him. He did see who was holding L. Tall and pale with veiny wings and dark feathers cascading down her back. She had a wide, laughing red mouth. She was hideous._

_"Takada," Light breathed._

_She stopped. She stared at him._

_"You talking to me?"_

_Her voice was a harsh, vulgar croak. All her elegance and intelligence had gone. He tried to speak, but it was hard when faced with such a creature. She cocked her head. Something shifted._

_"I know you?" she asked again. Her voice was softer._

_"Yes." Light said._

_It was gone. She let out a high pitched laugh and pulled a face at him. Takada was gone. The monster was all that's left. And that would be all that was left of him._

_Panic swelled and he forced himself to concentrate. L was yelling something stupid and sentimental. Takada was laughing. The thing was grumbling in an annoyed fashion. The King was reaching for him._

_He looked at Takada and concentrated on the her that had existed in college. And what she was now. And what he had made her become. He didn't like her anymore, but he didn't know why he had killed her anymore too._

_"Takada. I'm sorry!" he screeched. The King's hand was a hair's breadth from him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the last chapter! I hope you r all enjoyed the angst. It will also be up early as I'm leaving to go commune with the wilderness for two weeks and won't have the Internet. I'm ridiculously excited. Also I wrote this on my phone. I think I caught all the weird typos, but if not let me know!


	12. Somewhere

Things froze. It was comical, almost. As if some great being had pressed a pause button on their little scene. The King’s hand was too close to Light’s face. Light’s eyes were closed and tears streamed down his face. The thing that was Takada held L tightly, boredom and disappointment on its face. The Shinigami that held Light let out a soft chuckle. The thing that had created L’s afterlife looked extremely upset.

Slowly, as if it were not his choice, the King withdrew his hand. L hadn’t realized he wasn’t breathing until that very moment.

“Well?” the King asked.

“I think you should just do it,” the thing shrugged.

L stopped breathing.

“But we made a deal,” the King said. He was confused. He sounded just like every other miserable Shinigami L had encountered, which, to be fair, was not a particularly large amount.

“Your kind and their deals,” the thing muttered. “What good is ultimate power if you don’t use it?”

“You have a place ready for them?” the King asked.

“No. I thought he’d loose. He is terrible. The five days was a kindness.”

“So…”

“Stop talking about us like we aren’t here,” Light said. He sounded quiet and lost and scared and like he was trying to hide it. L was amazed he had his voice. He had yet to find his.

“Apologies,” the thing said sarcastically.

“Let us go,” L said.

“No. I don’t trust either of you,” the thing said.

“We have to put them somewhere,” the King said.

“Fine. Give me two minutes,” the thing said and vanished.

_It was an extremely awkward two minutes. The King kept trying to talk to them and the Shinigami holding him was muttering in his ear and L and Takada were staring at him. His heart was pounding in his ears and he couldn’t hear a thing. He thought he was going to burst. Victory hadn’t yet started to stream through his veins. They had won. He felt like shit._

_The thing that looked like his father came back with a pop. There were bags under its eyes._

_“Done. Give them to me. I’ll take them,” it said._

_“I don’t trust you,” Light said._

_No one listened to him. Takada released L. The Shinigami holding him dropped his arms and gave him a little push._

_“Too bad, Light. We could have had some real fun,” it muttered in his ear._

_Before he could answer, the thing had taken them both. The last thing Light saw of the Shinigami world was Ryuk’s wide, grinning mouth._

_The new place, the in between place, was not perfect. It was a grand house, like L preferred, decorated with spare, modern furniture he preferred. He thought it was slightly too warm. L was wrapping his hands in his shirt, so it must have been slightly too cold for him. Outside was grey. He wasn’t sure who that was for. He hoped the weather would change, just for some sort of variation if they were to be stuck there forever. It smelled vaguely sweet. Light had always hated sweets._

_“This isn’t a reward. Your punishment is each other. You can’t leave and no one can come to find you. The food is safe to eat, the water is safe to drink. There are books and games and you can play tennis. The house is big. You’re both clever. I’m sure you’ll keep adding to it. But if either of you try ANYTHING, I will see to it that you are sent straight back to Mu. I truly hope I never see either of you again,” the thing said in one quick breath and vanished._

_He and L were left looking at each other._

The new place was too cold. The furniture was incredibly uncomfortable looking. The light was both to bright and too dim and it would no doubt drive him made at some point. At least it smelled vaguely of cookies. At least Light was there.

He took the initiative. He reached for Light and held him. The other man shook slightly in his grasp. It was a lot. He had admitted he was wrong. L didn’t know if that had ever happened before. He smiled wryly as it hit him that hell should have frozen over and they should be very cold indeed. He kept the thought to himself. He would tease Light about it when he didn’t look so pale.

“We won,” Light muttered to his shoulder.

“We did,” L said. He was still smiling.

Light started to laugh. It was closer to the laugh he had had years ago when they were chained, when he couldn’t remember. L felt like crying. Instead, he laughed. They were grasping each other as if nothing else mattered. He supposed it didn’t.

“I’m hungry,” Light said when they were done.

“Let us go exploring, then,” L said.

They set off through the house, L pinching Light’s sleeve, Light swinging his arms so that he brushed his thigh with each step.

The kitchen was large and stocked with what Light would later term their second favorites. Light sank to the floor, bag of plain potato chips in hand, smile on his face. L joined him, a cup of some American brand of pudding that was only okay, clutched in his hand.

* * *

 

It took a while for Light to regain his old beauty. The hunger of Mu never left his eyes, but L supposed that was only to be expected. He and Light debated and played chess or tennis and ate and slept curled in each other’s arms each night. It was stupidly sentimental, even if their kisses never lost their sharpness.

_Some days, he hated L with every fiber of his being. Some days, he smiled to himself as he thought of L’s death, adding embellishments where he saw fit. Some days, they fought so hard it was a good thing they were both already dead. Some days, L won. Some days, Light did. Some days he thought they both lost and were just left bleeding and bruised and resentful. Some days, a sandstorm of the kind that roared through Mu shook their windows and he felt terror rising in his throat. L could tell, but he kept quiet about it. He sat next to him in bed, reading aloud or coming up with puzzles for him to solve. When it was bad, he just held him, or a part of him, or just pressed a leg or his bony spine against him. He was a bit like a cat. Some days, Light felt guilt well up in his heart over. L could tell. He did not keep quiet. It usually ended with blood and/or sex._

_Some days were perfect. Some days he wondered how he had gone so long without L. Some days they didn’t talk. Some days they didn’t stop talking. He wondered how they had gotten there. He wondered why they never said the word “love” about each other, but knew he wouldn’t be the first to break that unwritten rule. It was another game, perhaps, and he didn’t like losing._

_It was one of those days they weren’t talking. They had found a new room filled with books written in language neither had known. L was pouring over something nearly as thick was he was thin. His face was half an inch from the page. Light looked at him with a sort of soft fondness he found out he now possessed in matters dealing with the odd, crow-like man he was now stuck with forever. He let out a soft chuckle._

“What?”

_“Nothing.”_

“Light-kun was laughing. Something must be funny. Did you translate that one already?”

_“No. Its just…I’m not bored. I don’t think I’ve ever gone this long without feeling so bored I wanted to…”_

“Become God of a new world and kill thousands of people?”

_“No. And don’t-”_

There was a kiss with barely any venom in it.

“I am not bored either, Light-kun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! Thanks to all my readers and to everyone who commented or left kudos. I've been wanting to write about these two for a while. I've always really enjoyed their dynamic and also really enjoyed stories where they were both kinda assholes. Especially Light. I love him best, but he is a terrible person who does not deserve nice things. Anyway. It took some turns I didn't anticipate and it a bit longer than originally intended, but I, at least, and pretty satisfied with it. I hope you guys all enjoyed it thoroughly.

**Author's Note:**

> The (disappointing) Netflix Death Note trailer sent me back down that rabbit hole, so here we are. I'm hoping to update weekly, mostly likely Saturdays. Future chapters are much longer. Rating is subject to change, but I will give everyone a nice head's up if that is that case. Thanks for reading!


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